I Smoke
by kangeiko
Summary: Slightly, er, *in your face* poem from Remy's point of view. Notice the singular lack of an accent. Remy explains why he went up to 80 a day after getting back from Antarctica.


NOTE!!!!!!!! THIS POEM IS MEANT TO BE READ ALOUD TO GET THE FULL, AHEM, BENEFIT OF THE RHYME SCHEME. ;-)

I SMOKEDISCLAIMERS: I don't own them. Marvel does.  
SUMMARY: Slightly, er, in your face poem from Remy's point of view. Notice the singular lack of an accent. Remy explains why he went up to 80 a day after getting back from Antarctica.  
PAIRING: Well, Remy and Bobby are an established couple in this, but on the verge of breaking up over Remy's, ahem, habits. ;-) Remy/Rogue past relationship references.  
RATING: PG-13. All the naughty words are 'bleeped' out. Well, the naughtiest ones, anyway.  
ARCHIVE: um...I don't see why anyone would want this, but, sure, go ahead if you want. Just drop me a line saying where.  
FEEDBACK: I live for it.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I've got a very firm 'anti-smoking' outlook on life. g Nonetheless, I enjoyed the various pro-smoking stories on the list. I just had to be depressed about it, too, though. ;-) This isn't meant to imply that smokers have a death wish... just that Remy does. ;-)

DEDICATION: Erykah, for her fantastic 'smoke' poem... very visceral, very tantalising, and I need her to post it here... g

I confess to it now -  
I smoke.  
I inhale, smile,  
Burn, hope to choke.

They all shake their heads  
And call me suicidal -  
Yeah, sure, I'll have a wife and kids,  
Spend the rest of my life at a fing recital.

Can you see me there?  
God, I hope not.  
If you could,  
I'd off myself like a shot.

Smoking is comforting,  
Welcome, familiar.  
All the things you people are not -  
And you wonder why I loathe to be near ya.

Nag, nag, nag,  
That's all you ever do,  
Complain about my life, my attitude -  
Is it okay if I breathe, is that okay with you?

Comments on my clothes,  
Comments on my smoking,  
Do I have any taste?  
Do I realise that I'm choking?

Don't I read the warnings?  
Tomorrow I'll learn  
To read them and their faces  
As I watch the filter burn.

I do not want to be saved  
From this blissful insanity -  
Are we not all allowed  
At least one vanity?

Smoking is mine -  
I love to watch the smoke curl,  
Pale, greyish, pure  
As mother of pearl.

The others - non-smokers -  
Do not understand  
They think in my own death  
I'm having a hand.

Perhaps it is so -  
But is that not my own choice?  
Aren't I an adult?  
Don't I have a voice?

If I choose to smother  
My lungs in my chest  
They should accept that  
And give it a rest!

Please, stop nagging me  
About everything I do -  
And yes, dear Bobby,  
You do it too!

I know you mean well  
And I know you are worried,  
But please, stop turning this trifle  
Into something quite so torrid.

I don't need a shrink  
And I don't need to talk -  
What I do is my business,  
So go take a fing walk!

Yes, I am angry  
At all the noses butted in  
I didn't realise that a couple of ciggies  
Were a cardinal sin.

Yes, even Rogue sticks her nose in  
And comments on the way that I live my life -  
"Btw, chere, I found this in my back -  
Didn't you miss your favourite knife?"

Yes, I am angry,  
Yes, I need space.  
"What gives you the right  
To even show your face?"

To try and make amends  
To try and be my friend  
That's all they do, day and night  
Not understanding that this, I can't mend.

You don't get over guilt like this,  
Over betrayal this deep -  
Your only real option  
Is a deep, dreamless sleep.

"The smoke gives me peace -  
It's a promise with every breath  
That it is bringing me  
A little closer to death."

"Why are you crying?  
When you left me, I didn't see you sob -  
Don't worry, dear Rogue, you didn't kill me  
But I'll be glad to finish the job."

She left. Then Scott came to see me,  
To talk night and day,  
His perfect features contorted  
Into an expression almost fey -

Scared for me, perhaps,  
Scared for Bobby's sake -  
"Don't worry, Scott.  
I won't be needing a beautiful wake."

"I'm sure that my smoking won't leave much  
Of me, when it's finally done,  
There won't be a body left to weep over  
Nothing left behind - no wife, no son."

"Nothing but memories to show  
That I was even here -"  
And that is when Scott's pretty face  
Twisted in pain and fear.

"Will you miss me, Scott,  
When I am finally gone?  
I know that Bobby will -  
I know he dreads to be alone."

"Promise to look after him  
To stop him from smoking.  
That's some bad shit -  
I don't want the boy choking."

"Then why do you smoke?"  
He asked with a wry smile,  
Probably hoping  
He could stall for a while.

"I told Rogue before,  
And I'm telling you now -  
I know you want me dead,  
But I get to choose how."

He shook his head, then,  
Told me he would stay with me  
Until I believed him,  
Until I could see

That they meant me no harm.  
I tried to dissuade him,  
To get him to leave -  
"I don't want you here, Slim,

I don't want you near me -"  
I sighed. " Please go -"  
But he did not listen,  
And would not close the door.

Whatever I said to him, whatever I did,  
His resolve wouldn't crack.  
"Oh, Scott..." That is why, next year,  
I'm taking up smack.

fin.


End file.
